The Unforgiven
by Hyperqbe
Summary: Songfic - Saiyuki & Metallica. Gojyo, alone and looking inward with those red, red eyes.


Author's Note:

This is a Saiyuki songfic inspired by the Metallica song "The Unforgiven". I own neither Saiyuki nor the lyrics. They own me.

This is actually the first in a short series of "Saiyuki and Metallica" (S&M) stories I've been working on. More to follow...

The Unforgiven

_New blood joins this earth_

_And quickly he's subdued_

_Through constant pain disgrace_

_The young boy learns their rules_

_With time the child draws in_

_This whipping boy done wrong_

_Deprived of all his thoughts_

_The young man struggles on and on_

_He's known_

_A vow unto his own_

_That never from this day_

_His will they'll take away..._

The world is my enemy, and I cannot let myself forget for a moment. I am a marked man, in so many ways.

I drop the cigarette to the floor and crush it into dust. The sweaty beer can nearly slips from my fingers as I lift it to my overhot forehead and revel for a moment in the lingering coolness of it. The night is too hot, muggy; clouds, like women, promise or threaten but don't bother to deliver on any of it. Nothing soothing will rain down on me anytime soon.

Most places we stop, the people are kind and ignorant, farmer types who don't know what red means. But here...

I pull the beer can to my lips and gulp at its watery contents, spilling some down my face and nearly gagging on it. I drag my wrist across my eyes to clear them. Funny how choking can make you cry.

I am so lonely, so fucking alone. I can't even stand my own company, and that makes it worse. Most times, I can lose myself in booze or cards or women, or in the comfort of my unlikely companions. Tonight is hell. And it's only just started.

There are things we need to do in this town, get supplies, shit like that. The monk sent the other two out to take care of all that while he sits in his room and reads the paper, does whatever a corrupt monk does in a shabby rented room all by himself on a sticky night. I'm stuck in my room like a prisoner.

Or a witness -- locked up for his own protection.

Gods, I hate this. I tip the beer can back and drain it. It's foamy and warm now, really nasty if I stop to taste it, which I don't. For a moment I consider crushing the can and hurling it across the room. Instead I set it back on the table. I don't even have the energy to care.

The way the locals looked at me when we came in... Grandfather with despair, auntie with hatred, big brother with murder, little sister with undisguised fear. They know the meaning of red in this town, and they wish to hell they didn't.

When Sanzo played the holy guy trump and called me his servant, I didn't argue. It put the fire out of their eyes and ensured I wouldn't wake up dead. But the fear remained.

Just the sight of me made a little girl cry.

_What I've felt_

_What I've known_

_Never shined through in what I've shown_

_Never be_

_Never see_

_Won't see what might have been_

_What I've felt_

_What I've known_

_Never shined through in what I've shown_

_Never free_

_Never me_

_So I dub thee unforgiven..._

I wipe at my eyes again. Damn it.

Will it ever change?

Maybe when we're done with this quest, and demons aren't being assholes to the humans anymore, it'll be like it was before this whole thing started.

Yeah, and maybe Goku will go on a diet.

Before this mess, before even when Gyumao started eating the locals 500 years ago, I would still have been a creature of disdain and dread. That won't change, no matter if we win or lose. Human and youkai don't mix, or at least they're not supposed to. The offspring of such a union are not supposed to live long.

Unlucky, harbingers of ill fortune, bringers of ill fortune, doesn't matter. It's all unlucky to me, whether I'm being blamed for the incidents or the luck itself. The locals here act like I'm the god of plagues.

Maybe I am.

Always sort of wondered about that reincarnation bullshit. You hear stories about gods being banished to the world of men, living lives among them until they do their time or whatever the sentence was. Yeah, probably true, in my case. Plague God.

I snort a bitter laugh. Don't feel like looking for more beer, so I drag my emergency flask of sake from my pack. That stuff's supposed to be served warm, anyway. Should do just fine.

You know, you live as best you can and then you die, regardless of what you've done wrong or right. If you're lucky, you get another chance, or you get into a movie-set afterlife with beautiful women and no cares.

That's if you're lucky. What if you're me?

_They dedicate their lives_

_To running all of his_

_He tries to please them all_

_This bitter man he is_

_Throughout his life the same_

_He's battled constantly_

_This fight he cannot win_

_A tired man they see no longer cares_

_The old man then prepares_

_To die regretfully_

_That old man here is me_

I've tried to be a good son, a good little brother, a good man. I don't hurt anyone who doesn't deserve it, and I'm pretty selective on that score. I don't try to break any hearts, except my own. And now I'm following this broken-down monkoid on a probably futile journey to stop Gyumao from coming back to life, which is a polite way of calling it a suicide mission.

Why the hell should I care? We're trying to save people who wouldn't shit for me if they had the choice not to. They probably expect my demon blood to overwhelm the human part of me, and for me to turn into a monster and kill them all.

Wouldn't that just serve them right?

_What I've felt_

_What I've known_

_Never shined through in what I've shown_

_Never be_

_Never see_

_Won't see what might have been_

_What I've felt_

_What I've known_

_Never shined through in what I've shown_

_Never free_

_Never me_

_So I dub thee unforgiven_... 

I sigh and take another swig of sake. It's warm enough to seep right into my brain, and it's making me nice and fuzzy now. Shouldn't have messed with the beer in the first place, should've gone straight to this. Have to remember that. Nights like this, drink the sake.

I haven't heard the others come back yet, though I really haven't been paying attention. Youkai assassins could have snuck right in and I wouldn't have noticed a damn thing. Probably would've welcomed the diversion, though.

These idiot peasants had better not have hurt 'em.

I haul myself to my feet. I'm not drunk, but I'm damn close. The flask is almost empty. Have to get Sanzo to accept a gift before we go, get me some more sake. Don't want to be without that, no sir. Not on nights like this one.

The window sill stops my forward momentum. My hair spills down and hangs like a crimson banner as I take a look outside. A few people are in the street, not many.

As I watch, a little kid catches sight of me. I nearly wave out of habit, but he has a rock in his hand. I don't flinch when it hits the wall next to my head. Fairly good aim, for a kid.

I move away from the window slowly, like I've got all the time in the world. In the hall outside I can hear Hakkai and Goku returning with supplies. They sound fairly happy.

The last burning drops of sake slide down my throat like bitter rain.

_You labelled me_

_I'll label you_

_So I dub thee unforgiven._


End file.
